


Scis inimicus

by Ririccio



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Companions, Dark, Death, M/M, Major Character(s), Minor Character(s), Slow Burn, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 07:30:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11249154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ririccio/pseuds/Ririccio
Summary: This story is about Paladin Danse and what happened after leaving the Commonwealth in regards to the Institute being nuked by Christopher (Male Sole Survivor). Associates that escaped the bombing of the Institute have come together and now threaten the lives of the Commonwealth once again, gaining access to Paladin Danse through Brian Virgil. Virgil helped Danse in erasing his memories of the Commonwealth for the better, only to have them taken by force. Now on a search for his memories, Danse seeks help from the Sole Survivor to bring an end to the Institute again and forever.





	Scis inimicus

It had been another long night. From listening to sudden movements in nearby bushes to the floors creaking through the winds embrace; if anyone would really call that heated breeze anything but. Radiation stained his lungs, almost as dark and heavy as the marks of rad-burns on his face; but he couldn't complain. Time was the only one who could tell when it would be time to leave as a freelancing mercenary living under the cowardice laws of Mother Isolde’s followers in the power of the atom.

A dry hand rose toward his face, trying to remove the stain on his crooked nose. Sniffling back the mucus that swelled in his sinuses, his bloodshot eyes waited for the sweet release of sleep. Tomorrow was a big day; Danse couldn’t care less about the dirt and dried up blood left on the strands of hair on his head.

The tall male retreated to his bed, sitting down with a loud thud. His eyelids dropping not before witnessing the morning ceremony Mother Isolde had planned for her followers. Light brown eyes fixated on the circle that had been creating with joined hands. Singing their chant for the crater they stood on. Danse had been over this, but he still couldn’t understand how they could stand so much radiation in their living conditions, let alone Danse’s  _home_.

That word will never stick with the shack that was built by Mother Isolde's followers. The house being made of aluminum, it reeked of body sweat and a lot of traffic that trailed dirt on to the floor of his home. It was made to shelter those who needed a place to rest. But to Danse it had to be a place to retreat from the dangers of radiation and the creatures that have mutated. But these living conditions were just the cherry on top for another reason to leave this hole.

Danse had been in a daze of frustration and confusion, for weeks even. Both dreams and thoughts alike were emerging together to only make more sense for what his next move should be. To find answers. No matter the cost and pain he will cause to others or himself. Or is he stumbling into yet another hole he will not crawl out of. It was really all up to the messages he had been "receiving" subconsciously.

The male lay on to the rusting steel bed. The stained mattress comforted his body, only enough to begin closing his eyes. Again, the dream eroded his thoughts. The dream itself filled with subliminal messages; it was like looking through the dust of collapsed debris. The only thing worth mentioning was the constant show of his temporary travelling partner in the Commonwealth. The only significance from this information was that Danse had his memory swipe of any Brother of Steel memory, including the meet and greet of the famous vault dweller from Vault 111.

It had been three years since he left the Commonwealth. So much would've changed, but the poor mercenary wouldn't know the difference.

* * *

 

"You're basically asking me to do another miracle," Doctor Virgil muttered. The quick surgeon sped around his “office”. Years of nuclear waste residing in mountains should have made the scientist think twice about using a cave as a means of shelter for his patients. The dirt walls held shelves into place as if they had held on to a miracle. The ground was more stable especially for it to hold a single desk in the middle, a gurney in the right corner, file cabinets filling the gaps between. The smell of antiseptic, radiation drainers filled his nostrils. Not to mention the giant overload of blood substitutes made Danse nauseous.

"... All I'm asking for is the holotape you wiped from my brain, I don’t need the money," he spoke in a slow voice, demanding the attention of the doctor that had read the same note more than three times.

The one mention of money had the intellectual shoot his head from his reading session, as if he was offended by the last statement spoken from the lips of the man he was actually keeping safe. "I paid for information," the doctor proclaimed, throwing the paper down in a fit to order dominance in the conversation. "... That and a few other accessories that come with a man who is larger than me by comparison... You're a mercenary. You keep this town safe, and I pay you."

Brian’s stance was more territorial than actually trying to calm the paladin, obviously offended in the brunette's natural response with the mention of money. "And if that isn't what I pay you for, then what do I actually pay you for?"

The brunette grit his teeth, the stress was no doubt contagious. But he was not unkind; he knew when violence was the last thing he was going to retort to. "Can you just listen to me?"

"I am listening. What you are asking for is a miracle, as complained about before."

Letting out a groan of frustration, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Both eyebrows furrowed as a response to the scientist's lack of co-operation. "Just. Hear me out, alright?"

Brian cursed at himself under his breath, a hand coming to adjust his glasses. Ruffling his own hair in a way that didn't mean he was fixing his black locks, but instead tugged lightly. "Fine," the scientist gave in, "take a seat."

Doing as he was instructed, Danse sat down. Unsure if this was likely the place to discuss such things, it was messy, let alone a walk-in clinic. But alas, he had no choice, and neither did Brian now that he agreed to hear whatever the mercenary was going to say. As much as he would like it, he couldn't simply kick out the larger male.

Danse waited patiently, eyes locked on to the Doctor's attention. That didn't stop Doc Virgil to get a drink; the scientist pulled out a preserved bottle of bourbon. Virgil set the warm bottle on to his desk, sitting opposite of the tabletop. The doctor held out broken glass jars to substitute for cups, holding one out for Danse.

"I don't drink."

"You will need one after this."

A bit taken back from the information the Doctor gave, the paladin took the glass, allowing the Doctor to pour him the right amount (a whole jar) of booze. Smelling the contents only made him flinch. It looked like a bottle of bourbon; it was no doubt, moonshine.

Brian took the first sip, cringing at the sour taste the alcohol presented itself on his tongue, letting out a gurgle of disgust, "Ugh. That's good."

"So," Danse began, clearing his throat as he set the glass on the desk with a thud. The soldier was impatient, of course. Who wouldn't be if their identity was on the line? "What did you do with my... situation?"

"I sold it," he bluntly replied. Taking another drink of his glass, making a pained expression before swallowing the beverage as a swift feeling of regret seeped in. Questioning himself why he even bothered having a bottle of this stuff lying around.

But Brian's face wasn't as priceless as Danse's. The man looked as if he was shot point-blank. Unsure if feeling anger was the only right thing to experience with this news. He didn't know what to do or say, but that's when Brian began.

"It's not like I had a choice, really. Before you go and blow a fuse, I do have an explanation why I did what I had to do. And believe me, I had to."

Adjusting himself in the seat, the Doctor now had his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his thumbs before going on. "Some bitch came through the door, busting in. Of course, my instinct was to help her; didn't get this clinic for nothing, obviously. But this woman was different, like if you looked at her wrong she will think of many ways to kill you, and not the quick and easy casualties."

Excusing himself from his seated position, the doctor went to a file cabinet. Pulling out a folder that looked new, Virgil opened the tanned flaps, beginning to read through it. Until he perked up, throwing the file towards the desk. The papers landing in arms reach for the synth.

"There were three men with her, and I'm pretty sure the symbol will be fairly familiar for you as it was for me."

Brian stared at the paladin, giving a nod in assurance. This was a big deal, especially for the cheap scientist to grant the mercenary his private folders of knowledge. So Danse complied. Opening the folder with pent-up curiosity, but the curiosity soon ended with dread. Wishing he had never laid his eyes upon that godforsaken symbol.

Setting the folder down some contents spilled out of the envelope. Surely he was puzzled, but that wasn't the only emotion he was experiencing. What was he supposed to think? That symbol was of course the token with the presence of another Institute, either the start of anew or a whole other ball game that Danse didn't want to play. "You sold my identity to The Institute."

"I didn't actually sell it perse. They gave me hush money, and a lot of it. I’m a scientist, not a fighter. How do you think I got the money to pay for your services for four months straight with no complications?"

"Four months?" He exclaimed. A spike of anger fused in with his strong desire for solutions. But this was different.

The doctor took a step back. "Do you understand what they could do with information like that?" Danse got up in a quick motion, knocking over the jar. "Let alone give them time... And you couldn't mention anything to me?" He then took a step towards the doctor that had now been cornered. Virgil’s back rubbed against the rusting cold steel that kept confidential folders at bay, his heart rate climbing by the second. But Danse wasn’t done, he was far from done. "Do you understand how dangerous this will be?"

Holding out his hands, bearing his palms in a sort of threat to push the other down; the Doctor stood in a defensive stance. But he was shaking, the mercenary clearly scaring the wits out of the other. "L-listen. I understand the frustration."

"I am more than frustrated. I am sick to my stomach of how much trust I put into you," he snarled, both hands grabbing the doctor’s collar. “How do you expect me to forgive this sort of thing that has been so vital to me? How stupid do you think…” he paused. His eyebrow twitched, and then he felt nothing.

It was too late.

Static and white noise filled his ears, a pain wracked at his head. Heavy hands of dirt and mud quickly grabbing the sides of his head, hoping to soothe the sever migraine he began to experience. Agonizing seconds passing by; his vision became more blurry. He felt disabled from reality and his body. Something else latched on his nerves, a board of black cut off his vision.

“Authorization… complete,” spoke a strong metallic voice. It was as if he were lost in a sea of black. Light brown eyes stared at the abyss, only to have the darkness stare back. It was disheartening, it was nothing. He felt nothing, he was numb. His mind couldn’t make a word, a sound. All that was left was the twilight and the emptiness that was eating him.

* * *

 Finally, a flash brought back the male. What felt like an eternity was only a mere couple of minutes? But that question soon subsided with the scene that was presented in front of him. Even before his eyes could focus and actually gave him a visual, he smelled a thick iron substance. Followed by the tang of antiseptics and alcohol; just the smell overwhelmed the man.

That was only a phase of what had actually happened. There laid Doctor Virgil, a puddle of blood surrounding his corpse. And there stood Paladin Danse, overlooking the dead body, a bloody broken jar in his hand. From ear to ear, a deep cut was in his sights. The lifeless body painted in its own bloody substance. His pale skin now painted with the depressing sea of red. The doctor’s eyes were open, but the light was gone; his flame of life extinguished by the hands of a rogue mercenary. But it wasn’t shock he felt.

Guilt seeped into his mind; fear, anguish, and nausea set in just right after. How could he have done this to his friend, his employer, and his first contact since everything from the Commonwealth? He was sick, he regretted ever coming here. Nothing good has happened since he left. And it would seem that’s what he was going to have to do again.

Kneeling at the side of his friend, he choked back tears. His fingertips dusting the other’s eyelids closed, apologizing over and over again. His throat felt like it was going to close up, deprave him of oxygen he so desperately wanted gone from his lungs. His heart was heavy, it was more than shattered.  _This is my fault... It should’ve been me_ , he thought.

But this wasn’t a time to mourn. Danse sprang into action, picking himself off the ground. Covering the thoughts of his friend’s death, time was running short. Rummaging through the file on the desk, he tried his best to focus, taking deep breathes with every second that passed by. But the reports were the same.

Three men, one woman, one sign of The Institute, and only a visit to Virgil; nothing stood out. It was like reading a book on repeat, but not being able to stop. It made him the more emotional, how was he going to find out what happened. Until he saw it, the one stray piece of paper on the ground. In his small fit with the doctor, he must’ve dropped the piece just before everything… well, happened.

Danse knelt underneath the desk to retrieve the paper; only to hear the tin cans of alarms shook the clinging and clanking of tin made him retreat underneath the desk. Slowly at first, until a screaming woman followed the noise. Even if the woman had seen him, her knowledge wouldn’t be any helpful. Danse knew a way only he and Virgil know. From previous excavation crisis’, the two were very tight-lipped about the “door” and the way it leads to.

Now his time was surely running short, he read the first passage of the paper. But not skimming it as every word in the paragraph was vital. He stopped mid-sentence, the words “Brotherhood of Steel” stood out. Much to his dismay, more about the subject would be on the holotape Brian sold. But that’s when he read the three syllables out loud: “Commonwealth.”

Danse took a deep breath in, holding it as he closed his eyes. Biting his lip as the sudden realization set in. He didn’t have enough time to really think, so up he went. Making his way towards the gurney, two cabinets stood on his left. Usually impossible to budge with a fragile doctor, he used his strength. Pushing the two away from the wall, he opened the hatch with a click. Storing himself in the sewer passage, he pulled the cabinet with all his might. As much noise as it made, he knew it wouldn’t give the guards any leads whatsoever.

Danse did the only thing he could do in this town; he vilified himself. Now exiled and most likely wanted, he set off North. Even if he knew every passage in and out of this pipe system, he still couldn’t escape his thoughts. Picture of a flag that had a rifle and blue background, the Institute’s symbol, and the word “Commonwealth” circled. It became repetitive; annoying.

He knew what he needed to do, who he needed to see. As much as he would like to forget everything (again), he made up his mind.

He needed to see an old friend, the vault dweller from Vault 111.


End file.
